Three is a Perfect Number
by Lavender Insanity
Summary: A man obsessed with perfection. And a slave who escapes from his twisted way of redemption. Ready to live again, love worms it's way into his heart by chance in one Crystalline City. But has he really rid himself of the pain? [AU]
1. Pain and Impossibility

Lavender: Yup… I actually dreamed this. My muses have finally embraced me again.  
  
Luc: It was tough.  
  
Daisuke: Really, really tough.  
  
Rhys: But here it is! Oh, and if you're looking for a 5th chapter of Imbalance, it is very likely that it will be discontinued. We're sorry, but Lavender just can't push that fic in any direction at all. She's having a very hard time with it. Oh, by the way, it's a Ryou beating fic. But not by his sinister other half, oh no. This is so AU that Bakura isn't even in it!  
  
Lavender: Anyway, this is set in medieval times basically. Kind of. SO UNDERSTAND NOW! THIS IS NOT A MODERN DAY FIC!  
  
In Light of a Runaway  
  
Chapter 1: Pain and Impossibility  
  
A scream. Every soul in the household would have awoken at the sound of a terrifying scream. Had they not been so used to hearing it. Countless times have similar screams rung out.  
  
In fact, it was a nightly occurrence. The cause? Another slave being whipped. You see, it was a sort of pastime for the owner of that household. A beautiful house, of course, rich beige in color with immaculate shutters that were a light brown. A fountain sat out front; a beautiful stone woman in a long, flowing gown that poured water from a pitcher. How often have those waters run red? Quite often.  
  
Now, the owner of this wonderful house liked to call it his own 'Paradise.' It was fairly large, with gorgeous gardens in the back and front; a mixture of large willow trees and flowers, colors enough to make that of a rainbow blush with jealousy.  
  
Every room in this house was kept virtually spotless. Almost every room.  
  
But we'll get to that in a moment. First, know that the master of this household had an insatiable love and lust for perfection. He kept these slaves as his 'property' so he could transform them into that which is perfect. As if they were machines, they would do everything he said on command and do it spectacularly well. In as little time as possible. You think it's impossible? You have not met these people. And you have not met this man.  
  
Now, as I was saying…  
  
Almost every room in this grand home was absolutely shining, clean and organized. And as I have also said, almost every room.  
  
There was the basement. A large room that was entered through a steel door, and down a flight of stairs. This is where the screams originated. Now ask yourself, how on earth could even screaming be heard so perfectly through a steel door and stone walls?  
  
Simple. Every night, a slave was whipped with a leather strap, three feet in length. Why is a leather strap able to extract such pain-filled screams? Three one inch nails stuck out one side of this terrifying leather strap. Three nails that he had trained himself enough to hit his target every time. The back of whichever slave he had deemed imperfect for the night.  
  
He would write the name of the next on a wall in the main living room in chalk; bold, clear, and threatening. If the chosen did not show up, they would be subject to a beating much worse than that which they were supposed to sustain while in that godforsaken basement. And if you're lucky, you just might find out exactly what that beating consists of later on.  
  
But now, let's talk of the basement itself. Yes, this room is the one room that is not kept clean. Why? Because whenever a beating was finished, the master would soak his finger in the slave's blood and put another tally mark upon stone wall. It was his fingerpaint. How many could be counted so far? One hundred and seventy-two.  
  
He enjoyed the pain-filled screams and cries for help. In his opinion, it was, and always would be, their way to repent for disgusting him so with their filthy imperfection. These people were known by outsiders as The Damned. Travelers and strangers were warned to stay away by those on the outside, lest they be captured.  
  
A slave would open the big steel door and close it, usually as quietly as possible. They would slowly walk down the stone steps; and then be greeted by a smiling master…  
  
"Hello, Ryou."  
  
He kept his head down, trying so hard not to look at that horrible smile. This was his first time, and he was terrified. Absolutely horrified and shaking terribly, trying not to imagine how much agony he would be in.  
  
"Oh, my dear Ryou, you have no reason to be so nervous! Now, be a good boy and come here." That sickeningly twisted grin…  
  
He had been told stories of the dreaded leather strap; and quite frankly, they hadn't sank in until he finally accepted that he really was the next to be whipped. How could he have been unlucky enough to end up here? He complied to the demand silently, taking steps forward until he stood before the man who was to relish his cries. Adore his suffering.  
  
"Ah, yes. My, my, how long have you been here? A week? The other filth must think you very unlucky for it to already be your turn."  
  
He said nothing in response.  
  
"Am I conversing with the walls? Speak up, Ryou."  
  
He lifted his gaze to meet that of his master's, emerald eyes innocent and oh-so scared.  
  
"I SAID SPEAK!"  
  
Ryou cringed. Who knew what would happened if he said something wrong? It might anger him further! But then, he seemed upset that Ryou wouldn't say a word… "I am unlucky, Master."  
  
The man clapped his hands together once and beamed, "Oh Ryou, I knew you had a voice! I remembered quite wonderfully how you protested to being caught. My, what a fighter! You don't seem like that sweet and brave spirit I met though…"  
  
He paused to examine the boy's eyes, searching for what might of changed.  
  
"Fear makes you timid. Is this so?"  
  
Ryou solemnly nodded, directing his gaze to the floor. Why was he stalling what he loved most…? He looked up to catch the eyes of the master again, but was shocked to find he wasn't there. And suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his back. A scream ripped itself from his throat, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  
  
The man behind him withdrew the strap, taking a second to admire the three puncture marks that were now raw and bleeding. He pulled his arm back, and struck a second time.  
  
Once again, a bloodcurdling cry echoed throughout that room. It was heard throughout the house. And every slave stopped exactly what they were doing…  
  
A third time. He withdrew it and brought it back, this time sending it forward with more strength. A fire-like pain was sent spiraling through Ryou's back again, his raw voice letting loose another scream. As the slaves heard this, every one spoke the exact same words.  
  
"One hundred and seventy-three."  
  
It hurt… oh God, did it hurt. Once the nails were removed, he shuddered, tears streaming down his face. What had he done to deserve this?  
  
"Do you know why I only whipped you three times, Ryou?"  
  
He let out a choked sob and shook his head 'no.' The master smiled. "Three times because three is a perfect number. 'Perfection is life.' That is why. Because of these words… these three wonderful words have I deemed three the perfect number."  
  
Three… was the perfect number then.

* * *

And for exactly sixty-seven days, Ryou lived in that house. He was whipped more times than he could count, and he was commonly pitied for being the favorite. Yes, the master favored his screams over all else. He favored his pleas for someone to help him.  
  
Ryou was in his room after yet another session, lying on his stomach on the bed with a large, wet washcloth on his back. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes, like they had every time; and he was starting to wonder when he would have no more tears to cry. Why was he even here? What had he done so wrong?  
  
That was simple, and yet complicated. It seemed that when hungry and tired, warnings would go in one ear and out the other. He wandered to this house in search of help. What he had found was damnation on earth.  
  
Two hundred forty red tally marks now were spread across the basement wall. The next day, he had been sluggishly going about his duties, when he wandered into the main living room. And there in large, chalk letters was his name.  
  
How was this fair, you ask? Nobody knows. The other slaves seemed to be happier with this occurrence; it meant that they were less likely to be whipped. He couldn't take it. He just couldn't. He ran back up the stairs to his room on the second floor, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He sobbed at the pain in his back, but ignored it. He wasn't going to do this anymore. He was done.  
  
When the time came for it to happen, the master waited in the basement as always, wide smile spread across his face. His favorite time of the day was here again.  
  
He waited. And waited. And waited. His smile sagged into a scowl, and rage built up inside him. It became very clear. Ryou wasn't going to show up. "How dare he!!??" He bellowed, stomping up the steps and flinging open the steel door with impressive strength.  
  
He stormed down the hallway, grabbing a slave by the collar of his shirt and demanding the terrified boy that he be told where Ryou is. "I-I don't know, s-sir." He said simply, trying to hold his gaze high without flinching.  
  
He snarled and threw the boy to the floor.

* * *

He would sneak out now. It was now or never; and never just wouldn't do.  
  
Now, why was it so hard to leave this house? Well, there were no guards. No gates. No traps. It was the people. They were so terrified of leaving, for if they were caught, they would most surely be beaten 'til death. Or worse. Near death.  
  
And those he had broken were trained to keep others from leaving. They were puppets. Dead from the inside.  
  
Terrible, isn't it? Ryou was determined to leave. He changed his clothes with the only other pair he owned; a set of black loose cloth pants and a shirt of similar material. He looked normal enough. If- no, once. Once he got out, would anybody be able to tell he was of The Damned themselves?  
  
He decided not.  
  
He smiled softly. No more of that leather strap. Were the others his problem? No. Did this make him selfish? That's for you to decide.  
  
He jumped at the sound of an angry shout, calling his name. He ran to the window, and slid out onto the ledge. You'll have to ask yourself why the master would let them stay in rooms with windows. Was it because he expected them to be perfect? To obey his command and never run away? Of course. And that blinded him.  
  
Ryou counted to three and jumped…  
  
"RYOU!!!!"  
  
His feet hit the grassy carpet, and he took off running, despite the ache in his mangled back. He could've cried tears of joy. But for now, he would make sure his victory was real. He would make sure he really was free.  
  
The master growled and shouted obscenities for all to hear. He was furious.  
  
The wall had missed it's two hundred and forty-first mark. That was unacceptable.

* * *

His lungs were burning and his eyes were blurry with tears, but he couldn't of been happier.  
  
"I'm free," he murmured, and laughed softly. He looked up to search his surroundings, only to find a city. The most beautiful he had ever seen.  
  
It was surrounded by wonderful stone walls, places open for entrance. Want to know what was so beautiful? The entire thing that sat within those high walls.  
  
Every building seemed to shine, every house a wonderful beige or white. The streets were cobblestone, very few people wandering them, chatting with others or running errands. Crystal water flowed in between streets and encircled the city, wooden arch bridges over ever pass. Flowers. And these flowers were so much better than the ones he had seen back at that house.  
  
These flowers had life and personality.  
  
It was beautiful. But something else caught his attention. A large building, towering over the others. It was a castle. Made out of crystal? Yes.  
  
He wandered in, crossing over the first bridge and hungrily drinking in every detail. A young woman with blue hair bumped into the gawking Ryou, smiling sweetly, "I'm sorry." He smiled back and murmured his own apology.  
  
Just as she was about to go on her way, he spoke up. "Excuse me, Miss?"  
  
She turned around and nodded, "Yes?"  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
Her bright smile lit up her features. "Vadrenn. The Crystalline City." And with that, she turned and left. "Thank you!" he called out. Well, what was he going to do? He had no money and nowhere to go. He walked through the streets more, happily observing every sight this city had to offer.  
  
And it led him to a bar. He walked inside casually, glancing around. And he was immediately set with the impression that he did not belong. He grew nervous and trekked further in, trying hard to ignore stares he was receiving from the patrons there.  
  
He edged onto a barstool at the counter and sighed, resting his head on his arms.  
  
"You look like you could use drink, kiddo."  
  
A mug of something distinctly intoxicating was set down in front of him, and he looked up to see who had given it to him. It was a blonde bartender. Wearing a busty white corset and a long, slim black skirt.  
  
(Lavender: No, not Mai. Just some random bartender.)  
  
He sniffed in disdain, wondering if she expected money for this.  
  
And she read his mind. "It's on the house, hun. Because you look like you need it."  
  
He blinked curiously, throwing in a soft, "Thank you." She left him to the drink, turning to help a new arrival who had sat a seat or so away from Ryou. She smiled and asked, "Can I get you anything, cutie?"  
  
The tan, blonde-haired man answered back simply, "Arrogant Bastard Ale[1]."

* * *

[1] Yes, it's a real brand of ale.  
  
Lavender: Ha! I love writing this! My apologies about Imbalance. I loved all my reviews, they really helped, but I lost all inspiration for it! Does this seem rushed? Feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong!  
  
Rhys: Yup, now review if you want! Or throw some flames at us! Bring 'em on, we're ready! And believe it or not, she just might write a lemon for this. Her first, mind you.  
  
Daisuke: Who does she expect to help her with that?  
  
Rhys: Us, dummy!  
  
Luc: Fun… 


	2. Bar Talk

Lavender: Good God, I need to take time to proofread. At the beginning it said 'In Light of a Runaway.' Well, it's supposed to say 'Part 1' aswell. Grr…  
  
Rhys: Lavvy! We're sorry!  
  
Luc: Yes, well, thanks for the reviews! A whole four for one chapter! She feels happy!  
  
.Lavender: I'm sorry for rushing the escape, but I really don't need you to know anything about this whole 'grand escape.' It's not what this story revolves around. I actually did dream this idea, though whatever the people in my dream were like I've totally forgotten. I woke up, and decided it was the perfect basis for a story! And yep, let's hope my muses stay happy!  
  
Luc: It's hard… but we manage.  
  
Daisuke: Give me five dollars.  
  
Rhys: They're not gonna get us…

* * *

Part 1: In Light of a Runaway  
  
Chapter 2: Bar Talk

* * *

The tan, blonde-haired man answered back simply, "Arrogant Bastard Ale."  
  
The busty female bartender laughed softly, "Are you sure about that? I've heard bounty hunters don't hold that stuff down very well."  
  
Ryou blinked, still not having touched the mug in front of him. A bounty hunter? "Really, lush, did I sound like I was kidding?" She waved it off and smiled brightly, nodding in compliance. "No need to get testy, hun. I'll get it to you in a minute."  
  
He grunted in response, taking the time to survey the area. Now that Ryou thought about it, this place was most definitely not for him. But what else was he suppose to do?  
  
He grasped the handle of the mug and tipped it up, bringing his lips to the rim. In actuality, he had never had a drink in his life. He swallowed with great difficulty, and grimaced at the taste it most certainly left behind. He then heard a low chuckle. Well damn. He was being watched. The blonde man who had sat close to him pinched the bridge of his nose softly, trying to hold back on bursting into laughter. Ryou blushed softly and stared in awe as this 'bounty hunter' breathed deeply to control the sudden fit and smiled at him.  
  
"I'm taking a wild guess, and saying that's your first drink."  
  
What a mind reader, Ryou thought in embarrassment. "How'd you know?"  
  
The young man grinned, "Intuition," he paused, accepting a bottle from the bartender and then turning back to Ryou, big grin intact, "and the cute look on your face."  
  
Ten shades deeper red. Right. Cute? That's laughable, he thought…  
  
"Name's Malik."  
  
"P-pardon?" He stuttered, broken out of his awkward reverie.  
  
The blonde extended a hand and smiled sweetly. "My name's Malik." He made a soft 'oh' noise and nodded his head dumbly, taking Malik's hand and shaking it.  
  
Lavender eyes looked inquisitive as Ryou released his hand and went back to thinking. Good God, he'd have to learn to stop doing that. "And you are?"  
  
"In hell," he murmured softly. Malik laughed wholeheartedly, snickering as he drank from the bottle crudely labeled 'Arrogant Bastard Ale.' "Of course, but I was sort of looking for a name." Ryou blinked. Of course. Malik wanted his name. How lost can I get, he asked himself exasperatedly. "Sorry. I'm Ryou."  
  
Lavender eyes lit up oddly, looking pleased that'd he'd gotten his name. "It suits you."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"I know."

* * *

"How did you end up in this city anyways?"  
  
Ryou looked up from the rim of his second drink, thinking for a moment. He didn't want people to know what he was. Who he was and just how imperfect…  
  
So his story was going to start from where it truly left off. "I was lost," he explained, taking a long swig of the intoxicating concoction. Maybe he would turn into a drinker after all. Malik's eyes were emotionless, as if waiting to find the right feeling to display. "All alone, like I had always been," he said quietly, lowering his gaze to fixate on the hard wood floor.  
  
"And? Or is that the story in it entirety?" Malik replied in the same soft tone, though there was something there. And it was trying to coax him into telling the truth.  
  
Ryou smiled dryly. "Can you keep a secret?"  
  
"You've known me about two hours. Even if I told you I could, it'd be entirely up to you to trust me or not."  
  
True enough. He drained the mug of the last of it's contents, sighing contentedly. "Excuse me, Miss?" The bartender turned, looking questioningly at him. "What can I do for ya, hun?"  
  
"Thank-"  
  
"He'll have another drink. On me." Malik interrupted, folding his hands and looking thoughtfully at the countertop.  
  
The bartender nudged Ryou, big toothy grin lighting up her rosy features. "Ah, already onto the second drink he's bought you. You sure are a lucky one. What an infatuation he has with you," she whispered, enjoying the rather confused and frazzled look it had set into play on the young man's face.  
  
"Thank you, Malik," he said softly. Said young bounty hunter turned to him, a smirk upturning the corners of his mouth. "It's no trouble at all."  
  
As the third drink was being poured, a man burst through the doors of the bar, face red and breath coming in breathy gasps as if he'd been running. "Maaaliiik!!!" He called, barreling over and skidding to a halt in front of the blonde. He paused to catch his breath, holding a piece of paper up for Malik to take. "It's a real good one this time!" He proclaimed happily, then promptly collapsed from exhaustion.  
  
Ryou glanced down at him with wide eyes, more than a tad worried. But it seemed Malik didn't really care. He was too busy scanning over the parchment with narrow eyes. After a few minutes and several times reading it over, he sniffed in disdain.  
  
"Already?" He breathed, checking the words to see if he had read it right. He sighed and lowered it, a troubled look spreading across his once amused face. The other people in the bar were slowly dispersing, as it growing close to nightfall. Nobody was foolish enough to caught dead outside once night had fallen. Actually, on occasion they actually did.  
  
"That didn't take very long," he sighed heavily.  
  
The man on the floor looked up at Ryou curiously and grinned from ear to ear. "I didn't know Malik had a little boyfriend," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows comically. Good God, did Ryou blush hard. The sun might've been jealous.  
  
"Oh back off!" Malik snapped exasperatedly, slamming the paper down.  
  
The man on the floor sat cross-legged and beamed. "My my, how protective. Well then, Malik, I need to return to them with an answer. What exactly do you want to respond?"  
  
"I don't like this joke."  
  
"It's no joke. They desperately need your services. You're going to get your assignment in a week. Of course, the sooner it's completed the better."  
  
Malik grumbled softly. Damn, damn, damn…  
  
"How much are we talking?"  
  
"A lot. At least four times more than they've paid you in the past. Apparently this new client is a high roller. Rich and desperate."  
  
Now that was something fascinating in itself. Malik smiled. "Tell them I'll do it. Whatever it is."  
  
"Fabulous! Now, I must be off!" He got up and turned to Ryou, taking his hand and placing a discreet kiss upon it. "And what is your name, young harlot? Or are you for real, unlike the others?" There it was. The eyebrow wiggle that made Ryou burst out laughing.  
  
Malik raised an eyebrow. "You really need to stop. It's no wonder you haven't had a lover in quite some time, Mesteno. As you begin to get serious, they can't help but laugh at that ridiculous eyebrow wiggle."  
  
Mesteno gasped, looking quite hurt by the remark. "It's an impulse, dear friend." He winked and spun around on his heel, planting a kiss on Ryou's cheek.  
  
Woops.  
  
"I always could just steal yours," he smirked softly before dashing out, knowing full well just what might happen to him if he were to stay.  
  
"MESTENO!!"  
  
Why should he care? Ryou asked himself. It's not like I actually am his lover or anything.  
  
Malik heaved a sigh and put his head down on the counter with a soft 'thunk.'  
  
"What was that all about?" Ryou inclined his head, looking very confused. With right to be. Now, it was mentioned that nighttime was certainly not the time to be out. And that couldn't be truer. Why?  
  
"Bounty hunter business. Strictly confidential and terribly odd." Malik replied, prodding the countertop with his index finger.  
  
And suddenly his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He had an idea. "Ryou, do you know what the Crystalline City turns into at night?"  
  
Ryou shook his head, and a hand tightly gripped his. Simultaneously, Malik dropped money onto the counter and ran out of the bar with Ryou in tow.  
  
He stopped just outside, leaning over and whispering in Ryou's ear before taking off again.  
  
"You'll love it."

* * *

Lavender: It's so short… but I had to end it there! It's necessary!  
  
Daisuke: … Really now… I figured it was because you're lazy.  
  
Lavender: I am not…  
  
Luc: Next chapter we begin with Part 2: A Week Of Sweet Nightmares! Malik promises to show Ryou a week of the nightlife of Vadrenn! What surprises and twisted things could happen? … Well, Lavender knows and so do we but you're SOL! 


End file.
